


Feeling Alone

by tuanpark



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: And I was attacked by feels, Angst, M/M, Some kisses because, Spin the Bottle, because Harry Styles sang Don't Let Me GO
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-06-17
Updated: 2013-06-17
Packaged: 2017-12-14 23:04:01
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 12,860
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/842382
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tuanpark/pseuds/tuanpark
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Harry and Louis are broken up. But it's Niall's birthday party, and they don't want to ruin it for the boy. So the only solution is to pretend they're still together, right? It all gets very complicated.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Feeling Alone

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first One Direction fic, so be nice :( Written by a boy directioner. Inspired by Harry's "Don't Let Me Go." Un-beta'd. So forgive my silly mistakes.
> 
> Based on the Merlin/Arthur fic [_The Good Times Are Killing Me_](http://kinkme-merlin\(.\)livejournal\(.\)com/9322\(.\)html?thread=6188394#t6188394) | By **minor_hue**  
>  Follow me at [larriams](http://larriams.tumblr.com/)
> 
> **Disclaimer:** I don't own any of the characters, and all the scenes written are purely fiction.

When Louis parks at the end of the street, Harry is already waiting for him under a tree just meters away. He feels heavy, his coat weighing him down like a ton of bricks.

It's Niall's Birthday party, and Louis and Harry haven't missed one since they met the young man. Harry lets himself stare at Louis, watches as the familiar figure creeps closer to him until they're face to face. Maybe from afar, they look like a couple just looking intimately into each other's eyes. But this close, this close Harry can see there's nothing but resentment there and a glint of something inexplicable. A car passes by, its headlights illuminating Louis' face for a fraction of a second.

All he sees is blue.

And Harry has to look away.

"Well, aren't you early," Harry shivers because it's been a while since he's heard Louis' voice without the crack of his mobile. It's casual and a little cold, but it still sounds so much like Louis. Harry has to gulp before he can speak.

"You're just late," Harry tries to sound sharp. Louis scoffs.

"I'm never late, you dimwit," Louis says casually, and Harry doesn't know if it's an insult or a term of endearment.

So he just follows Louis to the front porch, because apparently, Louis doesn't need to wait for Harry any more. Harry's heart twinges a bit at that, but it's nothing compared to what Harry has felt the past two months, so he thinks he'll be alright. Louis is already ahead by several steps, and Harry thinks that might mean something more than what it actually does, so he jogs a bit to catch up. 

When Louis rings the doorbell, Harry is immediately behind him. Louis' hair smells like shampoo and honey and something distinctly Louis, and Harry suddenly remembers the nights when he would wake up because of a terrible dream, and since Louis wouldn't wake, Harry would just lay still and smell Louis' hair and let the scent envelop his senses until it's all he can think about. Until he finally falls asleep with the thoughts of  _Louis Louis Louis_.

He chokes out a sob, but thankfully the sound is muffled by the noise of Niall's door creaking open accompanied by an excited shout from the Irishman.

"You made it!" He exclaims with arms wide open, and Louis instantly swoops in for a hug. Harry suddenly feels cold, and it has absolutely nothing with the breeze on his back.

"We wouldn't miss it for the world," Louis breathes into his neck, and Harry agrees silently. Maybe it's the way Louis breathes into Niall's skin, or the way Louis kisses him on the cheek, but Harry finally feels the burn of missing Louis.

Before long, it's his turn for the hug. That's the only reason, at least Harry tells himself, that he stays in Niall's arms for much longer than necessary. If he knows that Louis has always been irrationally jealous of Niall, Harry can just tell himself that he's never noticed. And if he hears Louis make an impatient huff, Harry can just pretend as if the whistling wind was too loud for him to hear.

When they break apart, Louis is already walking away without him, and Niall just looks at him expectantly as if Harry's the reason that Louis has walked away in a slightly foul mood. It's more or less true, save for the part about Louis' mood being slightly foul. Harry's pretty sure it's more than slightly, but Niall doesn't need to know that, so Harry just shrugs as if to say _what can you do_.

And really, what _can_ Harry do to make everything better?

Harry catches Louis before he gets too far. And if Harry's fingers stay on Louis' waist for a beat too long, Harry just tells himself it's for appearance's sake.

"What are you doing?" Louis asks none too lightly, trying to wiggle his way out of Harry's fingers.

"Stop twisting," Harry commands. "We still have to look like a couple, and that's not going to happen if you walk away every chance you get."

Louis glares daggers at Harry, chin up with the aura of confidence that Harry isn't sure is actually there anymore. Harry just stares back, and Louis looks away as he always does when he knows he's wrong and Harry's right. He's always had a hard time accepting that he's wrong at times, but Harry thinks it's only because Louis actually _is_ almost always right.

Harry carefully unbuttons Louis' sweater, and Louis is all awkward and stiff except for the shiver that runs through him when Harry's fingers accidentally brush his neck. Harry only notices because he lets out a shiver too.

"For the show," Louis speaks sharply and a tad too quickly.

Harry nods. For what, he's not too sure, but he feels nodding is the right thing to do at the moment.

Niall passes them with a wink and a whisper of _get your own room_.

It's strangely reminsicent of the first time Harry and Louis kissed. It was a stolen one, Harry quickly swooping in for a peck in the hallway of Zayn's house and Louis gaping for exactly three seconds before he grabbed Harry by the back of the head and pulled him in for an even longer kiss. It wasn't even a kiss, more like a sloppy slap of lips and tongue against each other.

Harry had felt on top of the world, and Niall had shouted, "Get your own fucking room!"

And well, now, now it's very much different. Harry can only look at Louis as the other boy decidedly tries not to return the stare. He keeps his face straight ahead, expression unreadable, and Harry sort of wishes it isn't. And then Louis is turning, and his eyes are suspiciously clear, and Harry thinks he sees regret somewhere in there, but it's gone as soon as it came. Harry wonders if it was even there at all.

When Harry places Louis' coat on the stand, Louis just waits awkwardly. Harry takes his off too, and as he does, he feels so much lighter like he can breathe again. Except there's no oxygen and Louis is leaving without another word.

In the living room, the guests are scattered around. There's not much of them, just a few close friends and a couple of familiar faces that Harry has only met about twice or thrice.

Louis immediately takes the seat right next to Zayn and Liam. Zayn is sitting on Liam's lap. Harry thinks they're digustingly cute but smiles all the same. Zayn and Liam are just one of those couple who one knew would end up together. There was really no surprise there, but sometimes Harry thinks Louis is more invested in Zayn and Liam's relationship than theirs. Or lack thereof.

Harry thinks it's because Zayn and Liam's relationship is perfect, and theirs... theirs hasn't exactly been a walk in the park. At least, not lately. An argument here and there, but nothing too severe to present an actual threat in their relationship, and almost always made up with a couple of post-its and some fancy words and even fancier candles.

He shakes it out of his mind before he dwells on it too much.

To the right of Zayn and Liam sits Nick. And to the right of him is Niall, who's sat next to Josh. Josh who's talking to Perrie and another kind-eyed woman who Harry presumes is Perrie's best friend. Eleanor is next to Louis, with a little bit of space in between. She's turned to Danielle, so the order goes Perrie's best friend, Perrie, Josh, Niall, Nick, Zayn and Liam, Louis, space, Eleanor and Danielle.

And, well, sitting next to his ex-boyfriend slash pretend boyfriend is only right.

When he does, it's with a soft sigh from Louis, but Harry doesn't let that deter him from having fun tonight.

"Harry!" Liam says as a greeting. Everyone else is too preoccupied with their conversations.

Liam stands up, to Zayn's slight annoyance (though Harry knows that it's put on), and hurries to give Harry a smile and a strong hand. Harry just stares at it, outstretched and awkward and in front of him.

"I thought we were past that, Li," Harry says before quickly enveloping his friend in a hug. It's not manly in the slightest, Harry's nose buried in Liam's neck, Liam's nose doing the same. Liam smells like citrus and Axe body spray. It's nice.

"We are," Liam mumbles into Harry's neck. "It's just been a while."

Harry laughs. "That makes this hug that much more necessary!"

He feels rather than sees Liam smile against his skin. As soon as Liam lets go of him, Zayn comes in and wraps his arms around Harry, accompanied by a quick, dry kiss on his cheek. Harry's eyes immediately find Louis, but the other boy is already turned and talking to Liam looking every bit preoccupied.

Harry's not sure he's okay with that.

Like Liam, Zayn's face is buried in Harry's neck. The scent of Old Spice and cigarettes cling to Zayn's skin, and Harry can smell it as if it has forever seeped itself in there. He reckons he smells a hint of Liam's odor in there, and Harry doesn't need explaining on what they did right before they got to the party.

"How've you been, Z?" Harry questions giddily.

"Oh, you know." Zayn answers. It's not much of an answer, but Harry thinks he gets it, so he nods.

Zayn goes back to Liam's lap, and Harry goes about greeting everyone with friendly handshakes and one armed hugs. Nick slaps his bum on the way, and Harry freezes for a beat but laughs anyway because that really isn't unusual. He thinks he feels Louis glaring, but Harry doesn't dare look, wouldn't know what to do if Louis actually is.

When Harry sits down next to Louis, Louis gravitates toward him. It's stiff and forced and Harry can tell there's nothing intimate about it. He just hopes nobody else can see past it.

There are friendly conversations here and there, and once Harry even turns to Eleanor for a chat.  It's not that they hate each other, they just never had a chance to have a nice, simple chat, much less hang out and get along.

People come bustling in, and apparently Niall had gotten to know more people since the last time they'd hung out, because everyone who just entered, Harry hasn't seen before.

He doesn't know how it got there, but Harry's hand is resting on Louis' knee. He swears it wasn't on purpose, didn't even realize it was there until Louis subtly pulled his knees away. It's out of habit, just an action Harry always does when he's next to Louis, and Louis never minds, sometimes places Harry's hand on his knees even. But today, today that isn't acceptable. It's a little too intimate, and Harry doesn't want to get his hopes up just to have it crumbling down.

Except.

Except Louis is taking Harry's arm and placing it behind his neck. Like this, Harry can feel the steady pressure of Louis' back when he sits. Louis rests his cheek on Harry's shoulder, breath warm and tangible against Harry's neck. And Harry has to ask before he gets too lost in the sensation.

"What do you think you're doing?" Harry leans in and asks, lips lightly brushing Louis' ear. The sound is soft enough so that only Louis can hear.

"Nothing I would want to," Louis whispers coldly. Harry can almost always tell if Louis is telling a lie, and this, Harry isn't sure if this is one. "Can't let you be looking single and available."

"Fuck you."

"Never again, babe."

To an outsider, they may be the picture of an intimate couple, but Louis and Harry both know this is nothing compared to how they usually are. For one, their thighs aren't touching. There's a sliver of space in between, but nobody can see the space much less comprehend exactly how far away from each other they feel right now. Louis may have his head on Harry's shoulder, but his weight is trying to lean away. Louis hands are tucked in his armpits. His hands are usually touching something of Harry's: hair, neck, lap, hands.

Today is different.

Except it's not.

And a brunette boy is making eyes at Harry, and Harry can't bring himself to return it. He doesn't really know why, because he and Louis are broken up, right? They're not together anymore, correct? But Harry still feels as if he'll betray Louis if he does that. But he brings himself to smile at the other boy in apology, before looking away.

The thing is, he knows Louis is gorgeous. So he shouldn't be surprised that a lot of people are staring at Louis appreciatively, and Harry has a sudden urge to cover the boy with his body. Except he can't, because while Louis is his right now, Louis isn't exactly _his_.

He chances a look at the boy, sees the smirk on his thin, red lips, but Louis isn't looking at Harry. No, he's looking at the brunette boy who was staring at Harry just a minute ago. And Harry isn't sure if that's flirty or territorial, but Harry wouldn't know what to do if it's either.

Louis is... Louis starts to get fidgety. But that's not the weird part. Louis begins curling into Harry as if nothing has happened, with warm skin and soft touches and even softer whispers. And for a moment, Harry loses himself in the world from just months ago. Where the only complication was Harry's father, where Harry was able to kiss Louis any time, where Harry was allowed to say three specific words and Louis would say them back with a word extra.

"It's my birthday," Niall announces suddenly. He does have a habit of stating the obvious. "And you're all going to get fucked with me!"

And, well, that's more like it. The room is a chorus of cheers and agreement, and Harry is more than ready to properly get pissed because after today, they're telling their friends.  After today, they're telling their friends that they're broken up, and that they want nothing to do with each other, and they've even agreed that whatever event Harry goes to, Louis won't and vice versa.

Maybe it's a little too fast, just a bit too final, and definitely a lot painful, but Harry thinks it's only right.

They only agreed to pretend for Niall's sake. It's the boy's birthday, and Harry and Louis don't have the heart to ruin it because of such selfish reasons.

It's just that... it's hard. What with Louis practically all over his body. And Harry knows it means less than nothing, it's all pretend and no actual attachment along with it. But Harry is forgetting with every soft touch and every lingering feeling of warm skin.

It goes on like that for a while, Harry feeling and forgetting and Louis just creeping his way back into Harry's life.

"'Mhungry," is the only explanation Harry gets before Louis is grabbing him by the wrist and leading them away from the party. Harry feels eyes on them, mainly Zayn and Liam and Nick's, but Harry can't really care much because he's too busy focusing on the heat on his wrist. It's where he and Louis are connected, and it should feel good, but it doesn't. Louis is dragging him really, and Harry can feel the sense of urgency there.

The dining table is covered with food. Every. Part. Harry didn't even know a house can carry that much food, plates and plates of everything that Harry is sure he can live in here for a year and not get hungry if the food doesn't become stale.

Louis lets go of his wrist when they're out of view, and Harry doesn't understand. He looks at Louis for an answer. But whatever Harry thinks he'll find in Louis' eyes, it's not there. It's blue and blank and Harry has never realized how close the color of Louis' eyes are to the color of ice.

"No need to pretend when nobody can see," Louis says in the silence. Harry thinks it echoes.

Harry says nothing.

"I hope you don't misunderstand. Whatever we're doing, it's all for show. And none of it is real," Louis says calmly. Harry doesn't feel the need to have it repeated in his face, though something in the way Louis says it makes Harry feel as if it's not for him only.

They get a plate and fill it with food because neither of them can handle much alcohol if they don't have food in their stomach. It's more silent in the room, than in the night outside.

When Liam and Zayn come in, they're kissing and grabbing onto each other greedily, and Harry has seen this before, hasn't he? Except Zayn isn't Zayn and Liam isn't Liam and Harry thinks he and Louis look better.

"Fancy meeting you here," Louis interrupts, grabbing Harry's hand without even looking. It's all for show, Harry tells himself. It's time to pretend. And if he pretends they're not pretending, nobody would be none the wiser.

Zayn and Liam jump apart, their arms and shoulder still touching, and Harry thinks he gets it, that burning need to be touching someone all the time.

Harry really wants to tell them, just let it out and Louis to let go because he's so confused right now. Because holding Louis' hand is wrong but so, so right.

"We were just on our way to get food," Liam tries, hand finding its way to his neck to rub it gently. And yeah, they totally weren't.

"And how were you two going to eat with each other's tongues down your mouth?" Harry surprises himself with the sass. He think he hears Louis snicker, and he feels a jolt of pride and satisfaction surge throughout every pore in his body. Louis' laugh is angelic and also few and far between. It's unfair that he makes everyone laugh while he barely laughs himself.

"We can manage," Zayn assures, tangling his fingers with Liam's. Liam smiles automatically.

It's funny, really, how their images are the exact reflection of each other, Louis holding Harry's hand while Zayn holds Liam's. And outside, they look so similar. Behind those walls though, they're the exact opposite. Because between those fingers, Zayn and Liam feel calm and peace and the electricity of love and desire. Harry only feels war and ice.

It must have been too quiet, because when Niall bursts in with his arm around Josh, all four of them turn, and Niall and Josh stop in their track.

"What's with the weird atmosphere in the room?" Niall questions. But before anyone can give the answer, Niall sees food and forgets the world.

They start to eat with conversations and laughs. People come and go to get snacks, some stay. Nick is one of them.

"So, Louis," Nick turns to Louis. " Harry here hasn't been talking to me, so it's your job to tell me what he's been up to."

Louis laughs self-consciously, awkward not with the sudden attention, but with the sudden question. Everyone's eyes seem to be on the two of them, and Harry fidgets while Louis remains the same. Louis likes the spotlight, or at least doesn't crumble under it. Harry can't say the same for himself.

"Nothing really," Louis answers, which is more or less true. "Been too busy with his job, but I'm not complaining. He works for the money, but I get the diamonds."

And yeah, that's how it's supposed to be. Harry reckons he'd spoiled Louis too much, but Harry didn't realize he's been spoiled too, with hugs and kisses and affection before that's all gone. And now Harry has nothing to look forward to, and, well.

"Last time I saw this fool," Niall starts and points at Louis with his thumb. "He was wearing ruby-studded scarves and cashmere towels."

"Please," Louis tries. "That's what the poor people wear."

Harry laughs, and Louis suddenly turns to him.

"Kiss!" Josh shouts from somewhere in the room. Harry reckons he looks panicked. The whole rooms starts chanting it now, and Harry is all awkward and blushing. He doesn't know if he's angry or filled with desire, but Louis looks out of sorts too. Harry takes a little satisfaction at that.

_Kiss, kiss, kiss_ is a steady rhythm now, and more people walk in to see the commotion.

Louis turning away with _no_ and _please_ and _come on, get Liam and Zayn to do it you fucking pervs._

But Harry holds him by the shoulders and spins him around. He thinks he sees a spark in Louis' eyes, but it's dim in the room, and people tend to see what they want to see when there's nothing there at all.

And Harry is staring, but Louis is staring back, and the rhythm of the chant becomes in tune with the beat of his heart until all he hears is his blood rushing through his veins. It's Louis who leans in with a kiss on the lips, and it's not even for a second, but Harry already feels weak-kneed.

"That's shit!" Liam shouts, and there's a chorus of agreement around the room.

And yeah, it is. But so is what they're doing, though Harry will let it pass because they've no idea of Harry and Louis' current situation.

Which is why Harry leans in and whispers, "For the show."

And when he pulls away, Louis' eyes are closed, and that's all Harry needs before he's taking Louis by the jaw and kissing him with two months of frustration and desire. It's slick and wet and feels so good that Harry can't stop. He's sure people are cheering and shouting, but all that's in Harry's mind right now is Louis and tongue and lips.

He thinks he feels a bite from Louis' teeth, but he's not sure because Louis is pulling away. They must have been kissing for a while because the group is considerably smaller than before, and people's attention are elsewhere.

Louis steps out of Harry's arms. They look at each other, and Harry watches Louis' eyes. They're not blue, they're blank.

It hurts, and Harry is backing away, but Louis isn't looking at him anymore. And why isn't Louis looking at him anymore?

So he turns because not looking at Louis is better than Louis not looking at him at all.

When he steps out of the sliding glass door, he shivers. The backyard is big, but the night is harsh and not at all sympathetic. It's cold, and the wind is moist, and Harry stares at the night sky.

He thinks he sees his reflection the stars.

They blink back at him.

Harry hears the door open, and he doesn't need to look back to know it's Zayn. The scent of cigarette is in the air. Harry has never felt the need for it, but he thinks he needs it now. 

Zayn is leaning at the wall when Harry turns, and then Harry is walking towards the wall and stops right next to Zayn.

When Zayn pulls out a stick, Harry extends his hand in question.

"It's bad for you," Zayn says. It's hypocritical, but so like Zayn to look out for his friends without looking out for himself. And Harry's lungs feel heavy because he knows someone like that.

"Just once," Harry adds. "I want to know what's so good about it."

Zayn contemplates for a while before he's handing him one.

"Just once," Zayn repeats.

When Zayn turns on his lighter, the world doesn't feel any warmer, but then Harry's cigarette is alight, and there's smoke burning its way through his nose. But it feels better than the burn of Louis' absence, so it's alright.

"Why the sudden interest in smoking?" Zayn asks after blowing out some smoke. It floats in the night, and Harry has an aswer but he keeps it to himself.

"Just curious," he replies. And he knows Zayn doesn't believe it, but he doesn't ask any other questions.

Harry's cigarette is still burning, and he wants it to keep going, stay lit forever. But that word doesn't exist, so Harry breathes in the chemicals.

His first inhale is rough and his throat feels itchy and then he's coughing because he's totally not used to this.

"First timers," Zayn teases. And then he resumes his smoking.

This time though, this time Harry wants to do it right. He coughs on his second breath.

"Just don't think too much about it," Zayn says all mentor-like. "It's as easy as breathing."

"What is?" Harry asks.

Zayn's smile is the answer.

So Harry doesn't think about smoking, doesn't remind himself that this is bad, and when he looks up at the sky, he only sees himself. When he inhales, Harry feels it. He feels the way it travels down to his lungs, not a burn but a steady pressure. It's like gravity, pulling at the walls of his esophagus, and his lungs are caving in because it's good. It feels good, and Harry thinks he can get addicted to this.

And then he can't stop.

Harry breathes it all in, feels the way the air feels thick in his lungs, how it circulates when he holds his breath. And yeah, yeah it's good. And when he breathes it all out, he's mesmerized by the smoke. But the smoke only floats away from him, ephemeral and evanescent. But it's distraction enough.

"Liam hates it when I smoke," Zayn says out of nowhere. Harry doesn't understand, because Liam and Zayn are supposed to be the perfect couple.

"Yet you smoke anyway," Harry states.

"Yet I smoke anyway," Zayn agrees solemnly. "I'm trying to stop."

"I'm not," Harry replies. Zayn gives him a look, and Harry doesn't need to know it's disapproving. Yet he smokes anyway.

When he gets to the butt, Harry feels empty. This time, his breaths are light and it doesn't pull at his lungs. He lets it go, the cigarette, and stomps on it hard. He thinks he hears his heart crush with it.

Zayn must have been done too, because he's turning to Harry and clapping him on the shoulder.

"Whatever it is," Zayn whispers and points at the house with a nod. "You need to fix it."

Harry doesn't reply, and Zayn knows the answer anyway, so he walks back in to the warmth.

Staring at the night sky has never felt less fruitful. Usually he finds the answers there, written somewhere in the stars. Tonight, though, tonight he's at a loss. And he thinks the only solution he's thought of doesn't have 100% efficacy. He suddenly wants his coat.

For the second time that night, someone joins Harry. The slide of the door is loud compared to the silence of the evening, and Harry tries to figure the person out by the scent. Except he doesn't smell anything, but the presence is familiar enough.

"Hey, Nick."

"Harry," Nick says as a greeting. "What exactly would a young party boy like you be doing out here when the party is in there?"

"Figuring stuff out," Harry tries to sound mysterious. He's an open book though.

"Louis is looking for you," Nick states. Harry scoffs.

"He didn't tell you that," Harry replies surely.

"No. No, he didn't," Nick agrees. "But that doesn't mean he isn't."

Harry turns to him slowly, asking a question without words. But Nick seems to get it, because he's answering what's not said.

"He keeps looking around, most likely in search for a familiar mop of curly hair," Nick laughs.

Harry lets himself smile.

"Don't think you can let anything pass me by," Nick ruffles his hair. "I am all knowing. And you really need to fix that."

"Why do people keep telling me to fix it?" Harry asks childishly.

"Because," Nick answers. And yeah, not good enough. Nick huffs impatiently.

"Here," Nick says, handing his jacket. Harry is cold, and when Harry drapes the cloth behind him, it feels wrong and not heavy enough. And then Nick is leaving, and Harry is following. He doesn't walk out of the dining room with Nick though, because what Nick couldn't see, Harry did.

Louis is in the shadow, looking every bit furious, and Harry thinks that's unfair.

"I always knew you wanted his dick," Louis laughs sharply.

"What are you even talking about?" Harry asks.

"You really think they're going to believe we're still a couple if you're whoring yourself out in the backyard and coming back in with someone else's clothes?" Louis says coldly. "You're not fooling anyone."

"What? I was _cold_ ," Harry answers. "It's _nothing_."

He doesn't know why he felt the need to add that last part. It's not as if Louis cares.

"Why are you trying to make everything complicated?" Harry all but shouts. "Things are complicated enough."

"Because you're trying to make it too simple when it's not," Louis answers. "It can't be."

Harry steps forward, keeps walking until he's in front of Louis, and when Harry looks, all he sees is cerulean.

Before Harry can do anything, Louis beats him to it.

"We're so bad for each other, Haz," Louis whispers. And Harry knows that tone, and it can't be too late. Can't be, because Harry's heart is still beating, and its rhythm still corresponds to Louis' name.

And he hugs Louis, breathes him in. It feels like poison, pulling at his lungs not unlike the cigarette. And yeah, he's addicted.

Harry lets go though, and Louis walks away with Harry in tow. Harry sees the way his figure is slumped. On his way out, Harry grabs a bottle. He doesn't know the content, and it burns his throat. He takes gulps and gulps of it, and he feels like puking, but he holds it in.

When they get to the living room, Louis straightens his stature, and that's pretty much their story. Harry gives Nick his jacket back at the soonest possible moment, and Nick is looking for the answer in Harry's eyes, but he finds it in the space between Louis and Harry.

Harry doesn't say anything, just sits between Louis and Niall. They're playing spin the bottle apparently, and there's a lot of guys, and Harry knows this will be messy, but he can't give any fuck. Everything is spinning now, not just the bottle, and Harry wants the world to be upside down.

When Eleanor spins the bottle, it lands on Niall. There are scattered whispers, but Harry thinks there's just an annoying buzz in his ear. Coming from where, he's not sure. But Eleanor and Niall are blocking his view, and they're kissing sloppily, all tongue and teeth and spit on their lips. And when they move apart, a string of saliva connects them until they're too far apart.

It's Zayn's turn, and as luck would have it, he gets Liam. There are cheers and applause and Harry thinks he does both, but he's not too sure. It's hot and messy and Harry can hear the slurp of their kiss. When they break apart, they look at nobody else. And Harry knows the feeling. Which is why he takes another drink.

Liam skips his turn, and has to drink a shot for doing so.

It's Louis' turn, when Louis spins the bottle, the world isn't spinning anymore. And all Harry wants right now is for the bottle to point at him, and yeah, as fate would have it, it lands on Liam.

"It's not that you're not sexy, mate," Louis says to Liam. Liam blushes, he blushes prettily, and Harry doesn't know why he's never noticed. "You totally are, but I love you too much, and I think that's the problem right there. And I'm also scared as fuck of your boyfriend."

Louis has to drink too because it's the rules, and when he does, he keeps his eyes on Harry over the rim of his shot glass. Harry doesn't look away, just grabs the bottle and spins.

It's Louis who laughs when it lands on Nick.

And Harry doesn't need anything right now, because he's hurting, and his mind is influenced by alcohol. And he really just wants Louis to hurt as much Louis has hurt him.

So he doesn't let a beat pass before he's on Nick's lips. It's too thick and not wide enough, but Harry can't care. Nick is responsive, and yeah, revenge. If behind his eyes he sees eyes the color of the sea, cerulean and blown, nobody needs to know. And if he pretend he smells shampoo and honey, well, the time to pretend is here anyway. So fuck it.

When they break apart, a couple of people whisper, and he thinks he hears a huff. Or a sniff.

Harry falls back to his seat, and it seems to be spacier than before. He looks at Louis, but Louis is looking at the bottle as if it held all the answers in the world. His eyes are suspiciously clear, but Harry doesn't comment on it.

It's Niall's turn and when it lands on Josh, he lets out a silent whoop.

"C'mere, boy!"

Before he knows it, Niall and Josh are kissing in front of him, and Harry keeps staring until Louis stands up. He looks stiff and unsure, but he walks away nonetheless. Harry doesn't know who's looking at Louis because all of Harry is focused on Louis' back. It's curved in, as if trying to hold itself together.

Harry thinks he knows the feeling because his back is slumped too.

When Liam follows Louis, he feels a pang of jealousy. Because that should be him. And Louis is his boyfriend. Except he's not. And alcohol has the answer.

So he keeps drinking.

Whoever says revenge is the sweetest thing, they're a fool. Right now, Harry doesn't feel sweet success. No. Right now, he feels stupid, because he fucked up, and he's fucked up, and Harry just needs Louis more than air.

And why does Harry need Louis so much? He still feels Louis everywhere, sees him, smells him, and Harry just wants his mind to be blank, because he wants to forget.

He drinks some more.

People kiss in front of him, and he's glad none of the bottles land on him. And he needs to pee, lest he pee on himself.

Harry stands up and nearly falls face first, but Zayn is standing up too and he's guiding him.

"Pee," Harry says. "Need t'pee."

"Okay, love," Zayn says. And Harry thinks Zayn is such a good friend, and he hopes he doesn't puke on him, but the world is still spinning, and Harry thinks he's spinning along with it.

When they get to the bathroom, it's locked. And fuck, Harry doesn't want to wait. So he comes stumbling back to the living room and kneels next to Niall.

"Nile," Harry calls him. "Nile, wanna go tinkle."

"The loo's down the hall, mate," Niall answers.

Harry shakes his head, and no, he shouldn't have done that because everything just got worse.

"s'locked," he slurs.

"There's another in me room," And Harry laughs because Niall is so Irish.

"Thanks," he says. And Zayn is about to help him, but he really thinks he might barf, so he tells Zayn he's fine, and he's got it.

"If you say so," Zayn says. And Harry stumbles away.

When Harry opens the door to Niall's bedroom.

It hurts, really, that they'd do that. Not that Harry can give a fuck at the moment. Right now he can only think of Zayn, and how must that feel?

Liam and Louis are in Niall's bedroom alone when Harry opens the door, just centimeters apart. Harry has never felt more betrayed by Louis and Liam than he does now. Maybe he concludes too quickly, jumps into assumptions too fast, but he can't not because it's Louis and Liam. And Louis has always had a weird relationship with Liam if he was being honest, and he really should have seen this all along.

He can't think straight though because alcohol is still fogging up his sight and his mind, and Harry thinks he hears a gasp but he's not sure. It's probably Louis from getting caught cheating (except he can't be cheating because Harry and Louis are technically over).

Harry laughs maniacally, the sounds unusual and empty even in his own ears.

"I shoulda known you two were shagging behind my back," Harry says to no one in particular and points in the general direction of where Louis is curled against Liam.

"Are you drunk?" Liam shrieks. It's a little girly, and Harry feels a wave satisfaction because he's always been a bit jealous of Liam's manliness. "You know we would never."

Liam sounds utterly confused and sort of mad and Harry kind of feels stupid because why would he do that to Zayn? Why would anyone do that to Zayn?

"You're one of my best friends, mate," Liam admits sincerely, and yeah, yeah he is. Harry notices Louis isn't speaking though, and well, he's just behind Liam wiping at his forehead. Or maybe his cheeks, Harry isn't sure. Too drunk to know for certain.

"Sorry, I just didn't think that-"

"That's exactly what's wrong, Harry," It takes him by surprise. It's Louis' voice, and it's shakier than usual. "You don't think. You only assume, and sometimes, sometimes assumptions are wrong. And god, Harry, why can't you see that?"

Louis pushes past him, shoulders bumping before storming off to another room. Liam just stares at him sadly, and Harry doesn't want his pity right now. He just wants to understand.

"He told me," Liam says as an explanation. It's enough, and Harry thinks he hears a sharp tone in there somewhere. It's not Harry's fault. It's not.

"I've never seen that boy so broken, Haz," Liam tells Harry. He doesn't know if he wants to listen or if he wants to run to Louis or just go home. He chooses to listen. "He's so lost, and you're both being unreasonable."

"It's not my fault!" Harry shouts, sobering up little by little. He wonders if any of the guests heard that, hopes they didn't because he doesn't really feel like explaning what exactly isn't his fault.

"I never said it was," Liam replies. He's trying to keep his voice even, Harry can tell with the way he's clenching and unclenching his fist. "Did it ever occur to you that it's both your fault?"

And no, not really.

"You go fix this now before it becomes permanent," Liam commands with his dictator voice, and yeah, Liam is right.

"Okay," is all Harry says before he's running after Louis.

He doesn't know where he is though, just that he's in the house somewhere. He wants to ask people if they've seen Louis, but he doesn't want them to ask why he's asking so he ditches that plan for now.

Taking out his mobile, Harry paces back and forth until he finds a familiar name in the L's.

_Where r u?_ Harry texts to Louis.

He doesn't really expect a reply, so he goes to the living room to find Niall. Only, Harry does receive a reply.

His phone is all white except for three words.

_in the loo._

And wow, why is the loo open when Louis needs and not  for Harry? Harry goes to the loo.

It's with shaky fingers, but Harry tells Louis that he's coming. With which Louis replies with _k_.

He focuses on keeping his foot in front of the other because if he thinks of anything else, he knows he'll overthink the situation and run away. He thinks he passes some people on the way there, but he really couldn't care less at the moment.

When he gets there, he gives it a light knock. Harry hears some bustling about, and a sniff, but all in all it takes a while for the door to open to reveal a tiny Louis that somehow looks tinier than usual.

He's hunched and bowed and Harry didn't think his heart could clench the way it does now.

He wants to say those three words, and a couple more, and maybe apologize, but he's really lost right now.

"You told him," is what comes out. Harry cringes because that sounds like an accusation more than a statement.

"Yes, I did," Louis says haughtily. His confidence is back, and his chin is up, but Harry can see the weakness in those eyes. "It's half my problem."

"Okay," Harry replies. He's standing awkwardly in the hallway and he doesn't really want anyone seeing them having a heated talk so he pushes inside and locks the door behind him.

"Can we talk?" Harry asks.

"No."

"Lou-"

"Don't _call_ me that!"

Harry huffs because Louis is being difficult. Harry wants to be difficult too, but he knows they won't get anywhere if they're both replying with sharp words.

"Fine. _Louis_."

"Yes, Harry." Louis replies with a fake jolly tone.

"Can we talk?"

"No!" Louis answers and brings his hands up exasperatedly and lets it fall with less grace. "I just answered that. And we're talking now, aren't we?"

"You know what I mean!" Harry snaps. He's getting angry now, but he needs to keep voice down lest the whole party hear the argument.

Louis just stares defiantly before he answers. "Fine. What do you want to talk about?"

"Us?" Harry tries. Louis scoffs.

"What is there to talk about, Harry?" Louis' brings his hand on his waist. "You accused me of cheating and you told me to leave! So I did, and now what? You didn't even call me for four weeks. And when you did, I thought it was for you to take me back or-or at least to meet up, and my heart jumped when I saw my mobile flashing your name. You got my hopes up, Harry. You got it up and you fucking crushed it in the same minute when I realized you called only to ask if we can pretend to still be dating for Niall's birthday party. What was I supposed to do with that?!"

"Well when you put it like that, you make me sound like the bad guy," Harry grits through his teeth. He rarely gets mad, and this is one of those times because how dare Louis put this on Harry when Louis is the one who cheated? "What did you expect me to do? I came home from work and you're on some guy's lap, who, if I recall correctly, was about twice as big as you were. You know my father was being more cruel than usual that week, and work was getting busier, and I come home to you cheating on me? What did you want me to do? Fucking watch you two get it on?"

Louis has the nerve to look aghast.

"I couldn't exactly do that, so I told you to leave instead." Harry finishes. Louis laughs coldly. It's not even a laugh really.

"I wanted you to listen!" Louis screams, and there's no way people wouldn't hear that. "And you didn't. You were so close-minded that you instantly assumed that I was cheating. And if I remember correctly, you didn't tell me to leave. You told me to 'get the fuck out of this house and never come back.' So, I did. You got what you fucking wanted. Are we done now?"

"No, I didn't. You ran away. You ran away like you always do when things got tough."

"I didn't. But you didn't get me. God fucking damn it, Harry, you didn't come get me! I was waiting for you and you didn't fucking come get me."

"I didn't think you'd do it," Harry admits. He sounds meek, and Harry doesn't know when exactly he's grabbed hold of Louis' wrist, but he has. And right now, he doesn't want to let go. "I didn't think you'd leave me like that. I didn't think you could. I didn't think I'd ask."

It's silent for a while, and Harry can feel the steady stream of Louis' blood through his wrist. It's slow, getting slower even, and Harry's not sure if that's a good thing or the opposite.

"I didn't think I could," Louis confesses. If he's noticed that Harry has his wrist, he doesn't say or do anything. And for that, Harry is grateful because the only thing grounding him right now is Louis. "I didn't want to, you have to know that."

Harry doesn't, didn't. Now he can understand.

"I didn't want to leave, but you sounded serious about it, and I think I was still furious that you didn't let me explain." Louis finishes.

"You can explain now." Harry tries, hopes it's not too late.

"I can, but I won't change your mind, will I?"

"You should," Harry says, neither agreeing nor disagreeing. "For the sake of it."

"And what? You didn't let me explain with Liam earlier. I mean seriously, it's _Liam_." Louis breathes. It's not shaky, just ragged. Thinking about it now, Harry feels extremely stupid for the Louis and Liam scandal. It must have been the alcohol. "And I think deep down you believed I cheated on you."

"Well, didn't you?"

"No, you dumbfuck," Louis snaps. "You just felt so distant at the time. And Harry... Harry you're never distant. You always pepper me with kisses and soft touches and I missed it. That week, you barely slept. I would fall asleep before you got home and wake up after you left. The only sign that you slept on the bed was the warmth that lingered in the sheets."

"So, what? You went about and found the first guy who you think would give you those same affections?" Harry questions.

"And if I did?" Louis reply is a question in itself. "I need that, Harry. I need reassurance that you still love me, and gods I know I sound clingy, but that week you didn't do anything. We hugged once, and nothing else. And frankly, I was getting tired. Tired of feeling alone and feeling like sleeping alone."

That, that Harry can understand. It's been two months of sleeping alone.

"I'm sorry, okay? I apologize that I-I brought someone home, but I swear to everything, Haz, that I didn't cheat on you. We didn't do anything." Louis tries.

"And I'm supposed to believed you on that?"

Louis smiles a tired smile. He doesn't answer, just leans up to kiss Harry chastely on the lips. Harry eyes fall closed, but Louis' lips are already pulling back and Louis pushing gently past him.

When Harry turns to the open door, Zayn is outside looking at him sadly. He must have been standing guard or something, and Harry is grateful that he has some really good friends. He doesn't want that though, the pity he sees in Zayn's eyes.

"Get him," Zayn says softly.

And for the second time tonight, Harry says, "okay" right before he runs up to Louis.

Harry puts his coat on and instantly feels heavy. He watches Louis walk away; it's all in slow motion for some reason. It's a picture he's seen once, Louis leaving him. Except this time, this time it feels final.

This time hurts more than the last, because the last time it happened, everything was fogged by wine and anger, and Harry remembers being so furious that he didn't see red he saw white.

He doesn't know if it's his imagination, or if it's nature playing with him, but the wind seems to be pushing the wrong way. And everything is so unnatural, and this situation is so fucked up, and there's only one thing Harry can try now.

The night is old, the sky dark with grief and illuminated only by the half moon and some scattered stars. It's gloomier tonight, drearier in a way that Harry can only explain by his feelings. There's a need there in the sky, hanging just in the midst of the clouds, the need to be young again, to be sunny and bright and warm, and Harry thinks he can understand.

It's been there since the beginning of the evening, weighing him down that he feels like he's drowning. Not in water, but in desperation. Drowning in false hope and want and desire and any and every emotion Harry can feel. And gods, he's never been so scared because... because maybe it might not work.

And it might actually be goodbye, but Harry doesn't know if he can take that.

Which is why Harry runs to Louis.

He didn't know he'd have to do this. This cheesy scene where Harry catches up to Louis all out of breath and out of words but somehow finds the things that need to be said. And Louis is going to take him back with arms wide open and tears streaming down their faces and it plays out from there.

But real life is nothing like movies, and Harry learns this the hard way.

He catches up to Louis eventually, words of _wait_ and _please_ and _Louis_ somewhere in the night. 

Louis turns to face him, and Harry doesn't think he's seen anything more angelic. Louis' eyes are bright and his lips are pursed and Harry breathes in though he's out of words.

Words of _I love you, I'm sorry, Let's try again_ surface in his mind, but Harry doesn't know how to start. So he doesn't start with words, he starts with action.

He takes it out of his coat pocket, and once it's out he can finally breathe again. But there seems to be a low supply of oxygen because Harry can barely breathe. In his hand is a heavier-than-usual envelope. And in it are words, his words, and Harry is holding it with shaking hands and he speaks with an even shakier voice.

"H-here," he says nervously, handing Louis the envelope. Louis doesn't look at it, just at Harry, and Harry thinks he sees something inexplicable.

"I don't know why I..." Harry starts, takes a deep breathe, and begins again. "I really miss you."

It's silent in the night, the breeze not picking up for some reason, as if this scene is stuck in this frame with two boys under the dim light of the dark sky. And that actually explains Harry's emotions right now. He's stuck, can't seem to get away from Louis and the tight grip in his heart. Louis is looking at him, and time is still, and Harry doesn't mind if this is the last thing he sees for the rest of his life, because Louis' eyes are bright and so so blue that Harry thinks there's an ocean hidden in there. It's so deep and so vast that Harry is drowning.

Louis grabs the envelope and turns, turns so fast that Harry wonders how the action didn't break his neck. But Louis is walking away without another word, and the only sound is the whistling wind. Time begins again, and Harry's still hurt.

Louis is walking away but Harry can't move.

He's leaving Harry but Harry can't speak.

He's driving away and Harry can't breathe.

Louis throws the envelope out of the car window when he's several meters away, and Harry thinks everything is in slow motion again because the envelope doesn't dive down but falls slowly like the last breathe of its dying day.

And then Harry doesn't feel anything.

He doesn't know how he gets home, just that he does. He reckons he's found a way to drag himself out of the middle of the road and onto his car. He doesn't remember driving away, just that he did, and if he looked at the rear view mirror, he would have seen the envelope flaoting in the road, alone and empty and forgotten. But Harry doesn't look back.

It's a wonder how he didn't crash on his way home. He does distinctly remember pulling over by the side, getting out and running to the nearest tree for support and thanking it by hurling alcohol and all of his dinner onto its roots. He feels emptier in his heart than he does in his stomach, and maybe that's why he barfs more until all of the contents of his stomach is nothing but acid.

But now, right now, Harry is in his house. It's not home anymore. The flat isn't made for one. Harry learns this in two months.

After he locks the door, he goes to the kitchen to get a cup of water. He drinks and spits and repeats until the taste of puke is out of his mouth and all that's left is the taste of his tongue and the phantom taste of Louis' mouth.

He's sweating, he thinks, because there are beads of water by his face. Sweat doesn't usually come for his eyes though.

He bites his lip, doesn't know why, just that he does. Maybe it's to keep the familiar taste of Louis locked up in there. He isn't sure, just that the pain it brings on his lips is better than the agony burning inside.

When he's done washing his mouth, he walks to the living room, focuses on keeping his foot in front of the other. He's too tired to go to the bed, hasn't really slept in there since Louis left. It feels too big without him, even though the bed is made for only one person.

Harry is tired. Exhausted even. And he doesn't even make it to the couch before he collapses. He doesn't know how he falls asleep, because the floor is uncomfortable even though it's carpeted. It irritates his skin, but Harry can't move, doesn't really want to, maybe ever. He knows he's exaggerating, but right now he just wants to rest, wants to stop, stop feeling, stop thinking, but wants to continue on living. Just unsure if he wants wants to continue on living without Louis. Funny enough, it's sweet memories of Louis that Harry falls asleep with.

It's also sweet memories of Louis that he dreams of.

And for the 76th day in a row, Harry sleeps alone.

His dreams consist of Louis and music and tears. He sees glimpses of Louis, eyes red-rimmed and expression broken. He dreams that Louis holds him, hugs him, eyes bright and face breaking into a grin. Harry is confused.

He dreams of Louis' soft touches, thinks he hears the slow rhythm of a beat somewhere in the background. It's slow yet powerful all the same, and Harry hears himself. Funny, that. He must be going insane.

He dreams of being relaxed, and the beat of the music corresponds to the beat of his heart, and Harry feels the familiarity of it. Louis is still holding him, clutching him as if he's afraid. Afraid of what he's not sure, but Louis is whispering to him. Harry can't understand, the words too soft and broken and slurred but Harry thinks he hears the words _I won't_ and _Never_.

Harry must have sleep walked because when he wakes up, he's on his bed. It's not the first time it's happened. With a sigh, he gets up to shuck his jeans off. It's uncomfortable, and his bones creak as if he's as old as the sky.

It's with a struggle that he gets his jeans off, but he gets it off all the same so it's all good.

Except his bedroom door is creaking open, and Harry thinks there's a burglar, or worse a murderer, and wow he does not fancy dying in his underwear.

The familiar spikes come into his vision first.

And then all he sees is blue.

Louis is standing at the doorway with tea in hand. He's standing right in front of Harry, and Harry isn't sure what's real anymore. Louis is wearing nothing but his underwear and Harry's jumper. Harry's clothes fall down to Louis' thighs, the sleeves inches too long for the length of Louis' arms. Louis' delicate clavicle is showing because the jumper is too wide for Louis' shoulders to fit perfectly. It reminds Harry of how everything used to be that he almost cries right then and there.

Harry has to sit down on his bed to grab at something, his comforter maybe? He just wants to hold on to whatever, anything. Breathing is becoming a difficulty because the atmosphere is charged with something heavier than electricity, and Harry thinks this is sort of familiar.

The light from the hallway is bright compared to the dim room Harry's in. It's blinding to the point that Harry wants block his view with his arms, but he's afraid that the sight of Louis would vanish as he does so. He's never really noticed how bright those light can be, but at this point and in this moment, the sight of Louis' silhouette against the white light makes Harry's heart beat faster and slower at the same time. He's not sure how it's possible, but Louis has always known how to make Harry feel things that he didn't know he could, so he shouldn't be surprised.

From his peripheral vision, Harry can see the light being reflected by bits and pieces. And it takes a while to recognize the picture of Louis he's thrown against the wall. He's forgotten it, or at least doesn't ever look at it because it feels as if cleaning it up and throwing it away makes it more final than it actually is. Which is why it's still there, lying in the corner of the room with its bed of broken glass. Harry has an urge to fix it now. But he doesn't, wants to know if it could fix itself.

And suddenly, the world is spinning, and the bed feels smaller, and Louis is blurred by the tears gathering in his eyes. He gets scared that if his tears blur Louis enough, Louis will disappear like a wisp of smoke, evanescent. So he quickly wipes his eyes with his palms, swiping at it until his cheeks feel burned and his vision is clear with nothing but Louis and the light.

Harry keeps his eyes wide open, watches Louis as he stands there awkwardly at the entrance of their- his bedroom. With a gulp, he stands up. He hears the sound of cup against table.

Harry spreads his arms wide open, and Louis is stumbling to his arms, and for a moment, Harry thinks this is all another dream, and once he touches Louis, he'll feel nothing but air.

Which is why he releases a sob when Louis feels warm and real, and in his arms, Harry feels like coming home.

And then Louis' tongue is on his, and Harry swears he will never forget the taste of Louis' lips. So he bites at it, hopes the taste will stay on his teeth for longer than forever. The kiss is wet. Not from the kiss itself, but more in the cheeks. Harry thinks Louis might be crying, or maybe it's him, he isn't sure any more.

What he's sure of, though, is this.

He's sure of Louis, of his touches, of this kiss, because this close, with only pieces of fabric separating them, Harry can feel Louis' heart beat. It's beating fast and slow at the same time, and Harry thinks this boy is the epitome of impossible because how? And this close, Harry can feel the desperation of their touches, and it's not just coming from Harry's end. It's in every single touch from Louis, every fingertip, every swipe, every scratch, every bite, every tingle. And Harry is drowning, not from anything but the feeling of Louis, and it's too much and too little at the same time.

Right now, Harry just wants to want. He just wants to need, greedy with it, to take every part of Louis with him. And Harry will never let Louis go again, because once is too much and twice will be the death of him.

The only noise in the room is the wet sound of their lips against each other, and if Harry didn't need air, he would keep on going for forever. Louis' kiss is painful to the point that it feels as if his lips and teeth and tongue is searing through everything it touches. And Harry feels like he's burning, not with fire but from the desire to just... Louis.

Louis is aggressive and is pushing at Harry as if he's missed this as much as Harry did. Harry is still missing this because two months without this is too long. It's two months too long, and Harry wonders how he even survived through those days without Louis' lips against his.

Unfortunately, they do break apart because nobody can hold their breath that long, and when they do, Louis looks blissed and Harry reckons he doesn't look much different.

So Harry swoops in again, but so does Louis, and their teeth clack against each other. It hurts, but Harry can't really care right now because a little pain is so worth it if he can kiss Louis again. This time, the kiss is a little less animalistic, and a little more calm.

Harry hopes his lips can tell Louis what he really feels without saying a word, and Harry thinks it can because he understands from Louis' lips too. It's slow and it doesn't burn the way it usually can, but Harry is more than fine with that because Louis is solid against him.

Louis clutches onto Harry for support, or need, Harry isn't sure, but it feels amazing all the same. Louis brings his arms around Harry's neck, locking it there for security, and then Louis is pulling back. Harry makes a whine at that, but Louis silences it quick peck on the lips.

Right now, right now Harry sees blue. But it's only in his eyes, not his face, because Louis looks happy and relieved.

And Harry thinks he doesn't look much different. He feels it, this fresh wave of exhilaration, and reckons it must show in his face because Louis is laughing and Harry watches as Louis pulls his neck back and convulses with his laughter. Harry laughs too.

And then they're falling, but this time together. They're falling in his- their bed. And Harry knows it's not made for two, but they've never had a problem fitting.

It's habit that Louis falls on top of Harry, with Harry's hand on Louis waist. It's also habit that Harry moves his hands to Louis' ass and grips it before rolling his hips that suggest nothing less than what he really means.

Harry just wants to take, longs for it.

It’s addictive, this emotion. And Harry thinks that the reason for this lifelong situation is the treason of the heart. It is the feeling that started at the beginning of their end, but really began right from the start.

And then Louis is kissing him hungrily and all Harry can do is lie still and just relish in the scorching sensation of Louis' lips and tongue and teeth. He complies easily, opening his mouth to give Louis better access as he curls his arm around the other’s man’s neck. He pulls down on Louis to bring them closer, but Harry didn’t expect their members to align. The pressure on both their penises has Harry gasping and Louis groaning into his lips. Harry feels a bite on his bottom lip, and it only makes him grind harder up to Louis' body. It elicits a long moan from the other man, and Harry uses this chance to flip them over so that Harry is hovering over Louis.

This is their favorite position, Harry in control, though they've never said it, Harry can just tell. Knows from the way Louis' eyes light up with a flame of desire, and Harry has to breathe because at one point, he didn't think he would ever see that spark again.

Harry grabs Louis' wrist with certainty, bringing them over his head before diving down to capture his lips in a passionate kiss. It’s fast paced and wild, fueled only by want and an unbelievable amount of desire. 

“Do. you. know. how. much. I. missed. you?” Harry manages to gasp in between kisses. Their tongues are massaging each other, and Harry shivers at the thought of sharing breaths with Louis. How much more connected can one feel than by sharing and giving each other air, in extension, life.

Louis groans with pleasure, and Harry can feel the hard line of Louis' cock pushing up against his groin. Louis pulls away with an amused face, followed by a whine from Harry.

“Did  _you_  miss me?” He asks innocently, before releasing his wrist from Harry's grasp only to grab onto him through his underwear. “Or did your cock?”

And if that isn’t the sexiest thing Harry has heard all day, he doesn’t know what is.

Louis leans up to nibble at Harry's ear, stopping to whisper, “It's okay. My cock missed you too.”

Harry shudders at the breathy voice and sucks in a breath as Louis continues to suck on the patch of skin right behind Harry’s ear, closing his eyes to make the feeling even more delicious.

The wet tickling sensation has Harry trembling, and when he chances to open his eyes and look down at Louis, he wonders when the man had taken his jumper off.

Louis bites his lip, and Harry is getting much too hard at the image of a shirtless Louis right under him. He backs away from Louis, pulling at the boy's boxer-briefs. And he shouldn't be surprised to find that Louis isn't wearing any socks, but Harry laughs nonetheless. He presses a kiss on his hard cock that’s still struggling inside white cotton, massages Louis' member with his lips, feeling the shape of it through his underwear. A breathy moan escapes Louis' lips, and Harry all but pulls down the man’s boxers to have that cock in his mouth. Louis is grabbing on the blankets underneath him as if it’s the only thing anchoring him on Earth, and Harry smirks as he sucks hard on the head before taking all of Louis to the root.

“Fuck, Haz,” is the only sensible thing Louis can say at the moment. A flurry of moans and groans fill the room as Harry bobs his head up and down to work on Louis' shaft, every once in a while stopping completely to give it a blow of air. It makes Louis curse and writhe underneath Harry, and Harry loves having the power to make someone come undone right in front of him. Bringing his fingers to juggle Louis' balls, Harry licks up the big vein and stops at the top, grabbing at the shaft before closing his mouth on the mushroom head and sucks while pumping Louis profusely.

Louis is a mess of cries and moans and  _Harry_  and  _oh right there ah._  Harry is taken by surprise when Louis tells him to to stop, the words loud and abrupt in the silence of the dimly lit room. He takes a deep breath before urging Harry to-

“Come here, babe.”

Harry obeys and slides his body up until they’re face to face, breath mingling with each other. Louis kisses him full on the mouth as he pulls down Harry's underwear.

The kiss is slow and wanton, very much unlike the kiss they shared just minutes ago. It’s all lips and no teeth, just losing themselves in the mere sensation of the other’s mouth.

Harry feels around for the bedside table, opening the drawer there to take out a bottle of lube and a condom. Louis manages to flip them over without falling off (which is quite a feat since the bed is only twin size) and snatches it away from Harry, tearing the packet and placing a generous amount of lube on the condom and Harry's cock. All the other man can do is watch in awe at the apparent thirst in Louis' actions.

Before Harry even utters a “Damn, Louis,” Louis has Harry's fingers lubricated and swallowed by his hole. He gasps at the length of Harry’s digits, biting his lip and closing his eyes as he slowly slides up and down Harry’s fingers. 

“You missed me this much?” Harry asks as he scissors his fingers, and Louis can’t answer because the feeling of being open has him breathless and dizzy with the desire to be completely filled. His reply is a mixture of deep groans and breathy moans, and that’s the only answer Harry needs.

Harry inserts a third finger, Louis all but slumps down onto Harry, limp and willing and pliant from the fingers working the walls of his anus. Louis gives a jolt when Harry presses at his prostate.

“Again,” he demands, and Harry obeys willingly. When Harry brushes it again, Louis gasps and tightens his hole and Harry whines from the need to have Louis around him.

When Louis pries Harry’s fingers out, it only takes a moment before Harry slides in smoothly at the first possible chance. They groan in unison, Louis leaning up to fuck himself on Harry’s penis as the other man meets him in every thrust.

“Fuck, Haz,” Louis manages through the pleasure. He grabs at Harry's curls, pulling at it as he bounces faster on Harry. All Harry can do is drill Louis' hole like it’s all he’s been trained to do. Bringing his hands up Louis' pecs, Harry brushes a nipple. He smirks as he gets what he wanted, Louis releasing an elongated moan as he pushes his head back and closes his eyes in extreme pleasure. He’s still moaning as he tugs at the curls yet again, and Harry sits up to meet him all the while thrusting into Louis, short and shallow.

Louis curls his arms around Harry’s neck, shuddering from the way his cock would brush against Harry's chest, who in the heat of the moment, brings his arms around Louis and holds tightly. Louis' neck is still exposed, and Harry has no choice but to bury his lips there and give it a little bite. As he does so, he thrusts faster and shorter, hitting Louis' sweet spot with every action. That, Harry’s teeth on Louis' neck, and his cock brushing against Harry’s stomach are all Louis needs before he’s convulsing with warm, white strings of come. He spurts all over himself and Harry and the some one the blanket, and as he tightens, it only takes a couple more thrusts before Harry is flipping them over to take take take.

Right now, Harry loses himself, loses it all to Louis. And he's thrusting hard and short and stuttered into Louis while the boy demands him to _Hurry the fuck up, Haz!_

And it takes a couple of minutes, but Louis looks sated and blissed, and Harry has Louis' legs on his shoulders, and really that's all he needs before he's following Louis over the edge with Louis' name a whisper on his lips.

Harry falls on Louis, groans from the afterglow of their amazing orgasm.

Louis and Harry stay like that, sticky and hot and exhausted but they couldn’t care less, not when they’re safely tucked in each other’s arms.

In the heat of the moment, Harry hears it before he even knows what it is.

“I- I… you know I won't let you go now,” Louis says into Harry's neck, lips applying just enough pressure to make its presence known. It’s silent in the warm room, and it takes a while before Harry is sane enough to register what Louis has just implied.

“Lou,” Harry whispers worriedly. “Don’t say it if you don’t mean it.”

A gulp.

“But I do mean it,” Louis says meekly.

He’s looking at anywhere but Harry, and Harry touches his chin, turning it slowly to face him. He smiles, just smiles, and is content when Louis does the same. He hears the unspoken words between them, the silent assurance of _not letting go_  and the unsaid promise of  _never._

"It was a lovely song, Haz," Louis says into his neck. And Harry smiles because he's never worked so hard in anything in his life save for the CD in that envelope.

"I thought you threw it away?" Harry asks him, and Louis scrunches his face as if he doesn't know what Harry's saying. "I thought you threw away the CD. I saw the envelope on the ground, Lou."

Louis laughs self-consciously before taking a deep breath.

"I only threw away the envelope," Louis whispers, as if it's a secret. "I kept the CD and listened to it on the way to my flat, only wanted you to think I threw it away. Anyway, I thought you'd go after it actually, and that when you get to it, you'll realize it's empty and I took the CD with me. You don't really think I'd throw away anything you give me, do you?"

It takes a beat for Harry to answer, and apparently, that's all it takes for Louis to reassure him of the answer. The answer is a soft kiss. It's chaste and quick, but Harry doesn't think he's felt anything better.

"I also listened to it all the way over here, crying while doing so actually. I don't cry much, Styles. But I can assure you, you're the reason for about half of them. You should be proud."

Harry snickers. "Why should I be proud that I can hurt you?"

"I don't know. But Harry, I thought I lost you," Louis says seriously. And Harry can tell this conversation has taken quite a turn.

"Lou, it's okay. I thought I lost you, too, and I didn't think-"

"No, Haz," Louis interrupts, shaking his head solemnly. "I thought I _really_ lost you. I was already crying when I got here, and I kept ringing the doorbell and nobody was answering. Then I started pounding on the door until the girl next door told me to be quiet, but I told her to shut the fuck up so she went away. She probably thought I was insane, but Haz, I thought I lost you."

Harry doesn't know whether to smile or laugh or do nothing. So he does all but one, smilling while laughing and asks, "What made you think that?"

"Well, I remembered I still had the key to our flat and-"

"You still have it?" Harry questions unbelievingly.

"Of course, I still have it, you dimwit." And Harry smiles at the term of endearment. "I was planning to be that crazy ex who wouldn' let you have anyone else because I couldn't have you."

"You'll always have me."

"That's not the point, you cheesy fucker," Louis snaps without bite. "Back to my story. I got in and I saw you there in the middle of the living room, and you weren't _moving_. And Harry, Harry I was so scared when-"

And it all makes sense now.

"-I saw that you were on your stomach. And I couldn't tell if you were breathing so I had to flip you over and I was crying harder than I was at the car. Don't laugh, it's not funny!"

"Okay, okay, continue," Harry tells him.

"Right. I was crying and hugging you and telling you I'll never let you go again as long as you're alive. Which you were, and now I'm stuck with you, just don't do that again." Louis finished by burying his face into Harry's shoulders. Out of embarrassment or affection, he's not sure. Probably both.

"I won't," Harry says.

"And I won't," Louis replies.

"Won't what?"

"Let you go."

Harry feels rather than hears the words.

"But we have to try harder this time, Haz." Louis kisses the words to Harry's shoulder. "Me too. And if I leave, just know that I don't want to."

Harry nods.

"And if I leave, you have to come get me because I'm stubborn. I love you but I love myself too. Get me, next time."

"Okay," Harry seals his promise with a kiss.

"If it makes you feel any better, I was tired of sleeping alone too." Louis admits softly, and that makes Harry's heart squeeze.

"We don't have to, anymore." Harry answers. "Sleep alone, I mean."

"Yeah," Louis says. "Yeah, okay."

Harry lays still with Louis in his arms. Louis' hair is practically in Harry's face. Louis hair smells of shampoo and honey and something distinctly Louis, and Harry lets the scent envelop his senses until it's all he can think about. Until he finally falls asleep with the thoughts of  _Louis Louis Louis_.


End file.
